


Game of Survival

by nishiki



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Porn, Arkham Asylum, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sacrifice, Set during season 4, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 19:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16541180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: When Oswald returns to Arkham after the ordeal with Sofia Falcone, he decides to forge an alliance with the man in charge. He learned early on that sometimes to survive, you need to swallow your pride - amongst other things.





	Game of Survival

**Author's Note:**

> This was a very spontaneous idea I had after reading a lovely comment under my fic 'Fish out of water' and I just could not help myself but to write it.
> 
> Edit: to clarify the timeline a little bit: The first and last scene are the furthest in the timeline, the rest in between lie in the past.

Oswald Cobblepot knew a thing or two about the art of survival. Knowledge like this came naturally in his field of business and extended over the traditional “how to avoid getting shot and dumped in a river”. Survival was more than just avoiding getting killed. It was the everyday Tango that he was dancing with all kinds of people. It was being always three steps ahead. And, as of late, he had to be five steps ahead of everyone at the very least. Things in Gotham were changing rapidly these days and sometimes it was hard to keep up.

However, the knowledge of how to survive in a city thriving on crime came with the very real burden of knowing when danger was brewing on the horizon. He would almost claim that he had developed some sort of sixth sense when it came to situations like this in the past years. It was a gift he seemed to have inherited from Fish Mooney who had been a mother to him in many regards. She was also one of the people who had taught him his most valuable lessons about how to survive and thrive in a city full of criminals and psychopaths. One of these lessons had led to her inevitable downfall at Oswald's hands.

 _Never underestimate your opponent_.

It was this exact warning that had brought him to the GCPD in Gotham central on this foggy February morning. He had come alone without any of his usual hired muscle. He hadn't heard or seen a trace of Victor Zsasz ever since he had betrayed him for Sofia Falcone - a crime that Oswald would not easily be able to forgive him for undeterred by his understanding of how this situation came to be. Furthermore, Butch was far from being reliable for as long as Oswald had not been able to deliver on his promise to him.

One other lesson he had needed to learn the hard way, a lesson that had been essential to his survival until this point, was knowing or figuring out whom he could trust. In the end, after everything he had been through this past couple of years, he had come to the conclusion that there was not a single person he could trust in Gotham despite himself and that too was highly debatable at times. His alliance with Edward, this newly bloomed friendship that had started to grow into something more entirely throughout the last weeks, was built on a very shaky foundation and he was aware that Edward would certainly betray him again if he would give him the chance to do so.

The only thing a man like Oswald could put his trust into was to always know what the people around him wanted and how he could take advantage of this knowledge. The truth was, however, as he met Jim Gordon in the backroom of the precinct to tell him about Jerome Valeska, that it was him wanting something this time. It was him who needed people to help him and he hated every second of it. Knowing when danger was brewing on the horizon was as much of a gift as it was a curse. And as the news had broken that Jerome Valeska had escaped Arkham, he had lost all ground beneath his feet. It were moments like this when his survival instinct kicked in full force.

»He’s scaring the crap out of me!« His own words still echoed in his head even hours later. Jim hadn't been able to understand him. How could he? He hadn't been there. He didn't know what surviving sometimes entailed. Oswald, on the other hand, knew.

Hell, maybe no one knew as much about it as he did.

※※※※※※※

He was going to survive this. This was the thought that he had when he first walked through the endless maze of hallways and corridors of Arkham Asylum and they came to him again like an old friend when he was back inside the Asylum yet again. It wasn't hopeful thinking. It was a fact. He was not going to die in here. He was not going to give up. He was going to persevere. Somehow. And he would walk out of these doors with his mind still intact this time because he chose to do the things he would be doing if this would ensure his survival.

One of the most important things when it came to playing the game of survival, was the willingness to make sacrifices. Perhaps even more important even was the art of making friends with people you would usually be abhorred by. That was what Fish had taught him. Making sacrifices sometimes involved doing things you wouldn't usually do, things that were deeply humiliating perhaps even. He knew all about this.

That was why, as he realized that his cell was right next to that of Jerome Valeska, he had to make the biggest sacrifices in his life yet if he wanted to come out not only alive but still sane. Maybe he would lose a little of himself on the way out. That was to be expected. No one who left Arkham came out as they walked in. People tended to come out sicker than they had been before. Arkham Asylum was a place designed to chip away at your soul and mind. It was a place designed to strip its patients of all humanity and dignity. And Oswald was quick to learn that all this had gotten only worse ever since Strange had left and that people like Jerome Valeska were those who had the control nowadays. This was Jerome’s kingdom and everyone knew this.

So, the easiest way through it would be making friends with Jerome.

Oswald had never been naive per se. Looking back on everything he had done and went through, he thought that he had maybe been a little innocent at the beginning of it all. He had walked up to Fish Mooney one day at the tender age of eighteen and asked her for a job. The first thing she did was dying his hair black. It had not been her preference or his. It had been the preference of one of her patrons, a fat Italian broker who was in cahoots with Don Maroni at the time and who had a thing for scrawny little things like Oswald. She had been desperate for the information she could press from him about Maroni’s businesses to teach the old man a lesson or two.

He had been eighteen when he had first realized what making sacrifices usually entailed. She had been willing to sacrifice his dignity, he had been willing to sacrifice his body. It hadn't been a bad deal - not completely. She had gotten the information she wanted and Oswald had gained her trust and employment at her bar - a chance that he had taken to steal his way into her heart to rise in her ranks. He was not hired muscle. That was just a fact. He was scrawny and though he wasn't weak, he was certainly not a fighter like Jim Gordon or Butch. His power was his mind and his silver tongue - both of which he could only use to manipulate people.

In Arkham, all he had was his sharp mind, his body, and his willingness to sacrifice his dignity.

»I knew you had it in you!« Jerome groaned from behind him as he pulled Oswald’s hips towards him, rolling his own hips in turn and seemingly enjoying just relishing in the moment as the water of the shower was drowning out the noises of the asylum around them. A few of Jerome’s goons stood guard at the doors to the showers and Oswald did not bother with the illusion that they had the necessary moral compass to look away.

It had been his idea. He couldn't lie to himself about that either. It had been him who had pulled Jerome into a kiss and then straight to the showers without much hesitation on this rainy afternoon. He had paid no attention to the other patients inside the showers as they had walked in until Jerome had barked at them to leave.

»Someone is desperate today.« Jerome cackled as Oswald gave a small moan at the movement behind him. »Is it because your ex-boyfriend came by to mock you?«

Jerome was a man of little patience just like Oswald. It wasn't that Oswald found great joy in their trysts but he appreciated the swiftness and Jerome’s eagerness to please. At least in this regard, he was not a violent monster. Then again, it wouldn't have been the first time that Oswald would found himself in the clutches of a violent monster either.

»Stop playing!« Oswald groaned. »We don't have all day.«

They had danced this tango so often by now that there really wasn't any need for words - which didn't mean that this would keep Jerome from talking. Nothing could ever stop him from talking. He felt how Jerome was pressing his body flush against Oswald's backside, could feel his impressive length against his bare ass.

Jerome shoved his fingers into his mouth more than anything but despite the groan he tore from Oswald's throat like this, he swirled his tongue around them, flicking the tips teasingly before he pulled back. »Who would have thought that the mighty Penguin is such a slut!« Jerome huffed into his left ear. »Look how hard you got just from seeing your ex today. I have to admit I’m a bit jealous! I never liked sharing my toys.«

Jerome took his fingers and slid them between the crease of Oswald's ass as he bit into the skin below his shoulder blades harshly, forcing a yelp from Oswald in return. He was not the most gentle lover Oswald had ever had and he hadn't expected anything less from the younger guy. Still, Jerome seemed to enjoy the tension inside of him as he circled the pad of his middle finger around the warm, puckered entrance before sliding it in - no rush or extreme force behind it.

»Sometimes I wonder, Ozzy, if I’m enough to satisfy your needs.« His words had become a low purr by now and his instincts told him about the underlying threat. The game was afoot. He knew that he had to keep his mind straight if he wanted to protect the last shred of dignity that he still had.

The decision of letting Jerome fuck him had come easily to him after his first true meeting with the clown prince of Arkham Asylum. He knew that Jerome had been bored by his moping and his refusal to show his wickedest side. He had known that, if he would continue on like this, he would be dead soon. So, instead of fighting Jerome, instead of curling up and cry about the injustices he had suffered, one day he had sunk to his knees in front of him and sucked his cock. Survival means the willingness to sacrifice your own dignity if there is nothing else to sacrifice. Fish had taught him all about it. Sometimes is was necessary to lower yourself down only to rise even higher. Letting Jerome fuck him, sucking his cock, meant less pain and less public humiliation for him. It meant that he would have time to find a way out. It meant that Jerome told his goons to leave him alone. And today, Edward's visit - maybe that was the straw that broke the camel’s back in the end.

The piece of paper, the visitor’s pass, was still buried in the pocket of his pants in the locker room. He would get out. This was the mantra singing inside of his head as Jerome slid a second finger in, pumping them in and out quickly as he worked Oswald open without much care or consideration. He would get out. The Riddler was still buried deep inside of Edward and he would help him get out. Until then he needed to survive. That was all. He could do it. Even if Jerome would fuck him in front of everyone in the cafeteria, even in Jerome would have his goons take turns with him, he could do it - because he would get out and Jerome would remain where he belonged.

»Fuck!« Oswald hissed as he choked on air and tried grabbing for support on the slippery wall which he just wouldn’t find. He couldn't help but lick his dry lips as he rocked his body back onto Jerome’s fingers to bring them in deeper than before. This was a show and Jerome was not the only one who could put up a good show. »Fuck me already!« His voice was husky with want - a sound alien to himself as much as to everyone else.

There had been times when he had imagined Jim Gordon bending him over a desk in the middle of the precinct and having his way with him. There had been a time when he had imagined Edward Nygma pressing him into his silken sheets to fuck him senseless. It were thoughts like these keeping him alive in situations like this. How awful fate was that he found pleasure at such a place with such a man.

Jerome was not at all hesitant as he pulled back his fingers at once.

»As you wish.« Jerome hummed tentatively against his ear. He could hear how he spat into his hand and could only imagine how he started applying a generous amount of saliva to his cock even though that barely did anything anyway. Jerome inched in closer to Oswald again, barely teasing his fellow inmate with the head of his cock before lining himself up with Oswald’s heat.

With one hand flat against the small of Oswald's back, Jerome started pushing in, the grip of the muscle causing him to groan as he continued to press himself in up to the hilt as Oswald bit the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from yelping or whimpering. He knew how to swallow pain. He had a high tolerance for pain anyway. He would get out and then he would never need to do this again - at least if he didn't want to.

Oswald let out a tight, heated breath as Jerome paused inside of him and gave him a second to have his body relax around the intruder. He ignored the slow burn of Jerome pressing into him while he himself could only shove his left hand between his legs and continue the tantalizing jerks of his cock that he had paused before. He dropped his forehead against the wall in front of him and screwed his eyes shut as he imagined James Gordon with his calloused hands on his hips. Jim would be a biter like Jerome. That little fantasy helped.

Jerome kept silent for the most part, aside from the groans and heavy breaths he let out due to the death grip around his cock, but he started to move - slow, calculated thrusts as he grabbed at Oswald's hips to get more leverage.

He tried not to think of anything. He tried not to imagine being free even. After all this time, he had come to the conclusion, that imagining being free or somewhere else completely, was even more painful than accepting reality.

Oswald rolled his hips back against Jerome as he thrust deeper inside of him and drew a deep moan out of the younger man’s throat. This right here was about choice, after all, and he had chosen this. He would not hold back. He could ignore the fact that he hated the man behind him and could still find pleasure in what they were doing.

He could feel that he was losing the battle as Jerome hissed into his ear and he himself tried to swallow down his moans that threatened to spill from his throat. He had always been loud, no surprise there, but for some reason, he could not allow himself to be loud here with Jerome. Not that it would matter for Jerome did not hold back at all on him anyway. And why would he? He was the boss here and everyone should and could know that the infamous Penguin was his bitch.

Jerome raked his blunt nails down the soft skin of Oswald's chest, leaving pale red marks all over as he slammed mercilessly back inside of him and forced a strangled but pleasured little sob from his throat in the process. At least Jerome knew what he was doing and where to aim his thrusts as he caused Oswald to see stars dance in front of his eyes for a moment.

»Fuck!« He breathed as his right foot was dangerously slipping on the wet tiles. Not that Jerome would care as he kept hammering into him. »If you dare to slow down now … I’ll swear … I’ll murder you, you fucking clown.« Oswald managed to get out between Jerome’s thrusts but only drew a low chuckle from Jerome in response.

Jerome was grinning from ear to ear - which was not that unusual thanks to his scarred mouth - as Oswald glanced back over his shoulder with hooded eyes. His hands were gripping his hips once more so hard that he would probably end up leaving marks on him. Hell, knowing Jerome, he would probably want to leave more permanent marks and Oswald feared the day when he would actually get his hands on anything to do so.

Jerome leaned forward again and bit down hard on his right shoulder, making Oswald gasp in pain for just a quick second. He was close now. He could feel the dull heat building up inside of him every time Jerome slammed into him now as his own hand had become more and more frantic. Jerome too was probably ready to follow him over the edge of the cliff judging by how he breathed against Oswald’s wet skin over the sound of their skin smacking.

By now, all kinds of sounds and curses were spilling out of Jerome, accompanied by Oswald’s painful whimpers and hissing sounds between his teeth as Oswald was bucking into his own hand as he came, groaning as the splatter of cum hit the tiled wall. Jerome had no other chance as to follow close behind as Oswald felt himself constricting around him, practically forcing the orgasm out of the younger man with a shuddering moan. His movements stilled after just a few seconds and he lazily wrapped his arms around Oswald’s waist just to keep him where he was for just a second longer now.

»I don't like it when you hold back on me.« Jerome hummed against the slippery skin of Oswald’s back before he bit down on the nape of his neck. »But maybe your ex should come by more often to visit. We could have a threesome.«

※※※※※※※

He had been frozen sitting at the table inside his own dining room with a bunch of freaks gathered around him. Firefly, as always, had been eager to do whatever it would take if that meant she could burn people to cinders. She wasn't very loyal. That wasn't new by any means. She followed Jerome only because she had fun doing so. Victor’s eyes, on the other hand, had been unreadable as always.

And while he had been sitting there and listened to Jerome boast and talk, inside of his mind, he had been screaming the entire time. His head was aflame even hours later after they were all gone from his house. The moment he had first heard of Jerome's escape from Arkham a few days ago, he had known that Jerome would come for him in one way or the other. He had known and yet as he had gotten the invitation for the mandatory brunch meeting at his own house, he had been surprised - shocked, horrified even.  

After his escape and the death of Sofia Falcone, everything had been looking up for him again. He was rebuilding his empire again, taking over her businesses with ease and collecting his former allies one at a time. And Edward … Oh, Ed.

He wasn't naive about it. He knew that, despite everything, sooner or later Ed would stab him in the back once more and yet - call it a weakness if you must - he couldn't get rid of him. He couldn't let him leave his life again.

They had shared the first of many heated kisses after they had walked away from that pier and sometimes when he thought back to that moment, Oswald could still taste Ed’s blood on his tongue - the thought arousing him more than it had any right to. Perhaps he was truly depraved. Arkham had taken the rest of his sanity this time around.

»We cannot continue this.« Oswald found himself saying sitting entangled in Edward’s cheap scratchy sheets in the makeshift bed in his apartment in the Narrows. He wished they were home - his home. He wished he had Edward lying in the silken bedsheets of his room and to be allowed to drown him in kisses. Instead, he sat there, naked after their tryst with his back to his lover and one foot already on the ground before him.

»What do you mean?« Ed chuckled. »I quite enjoy it when you drop by like this. Gets my blood boiling and puts me in a good mood.« Ed was a ridiculously long person and even if the bed was bigger, it would have been easy for him to reach out to Oswald and drag the tips of his fingers down his spine like a spider crawling down his naked backside. He could only shiver at the sensation. It brought back memories of spiders crawling all over him in the darkness of a dingy cell, of promises mumbled in the dead of the night that he had never intended to keep.

»I know.« Oswald replied. He felt like a coward as he was unable to turn around to face Ed. The truth was that his thoughts were with Jerome. He was the ghost in the back of his mind, the error in his plan. »Still.«

He rose from the edge of the bed as fluently as possible before he started collecting his clothes that were strewn all across the room. That, at last, promoted Ed to sit up straight as well. »What's wrong?«

»We can't … It's over, okay?«

»Oswald, calm down and talk to me.« He had lost his mind. Maybe he had sacrificed a little too much of himself to Arkham and Jerome. Maybe there was no return from the pit he had jumped into willingly this time. He had lost his mind completely. He could feel the rest of his sanity slip away piece by piece with every second that was ticking by.

»I said it's over, Ed.« He repeated and shot a glare at his lover just as he was putting his pants back on. It was about time he would leave. Jerome expected him to be at the house when he would return and he couldn't be here. »It was nice, but it's over now.«

»Just like this?«

»Oh, please!« He scoffed. »Don't act as if you would really care. You just care about getting your dick sucked. You could have had me completely to yourself before you decided to shoot me, Ed.« Who was he kidding? Ed already had him. His heart, his mind, his body. All belonged to him and yet there was no way this could continue. Not with Jerome at his house, not with the danger that was brewing on the horizon or the darkness creeping in on him. Ed was so naive at times. So innocent even. He didn't know any better. He didn't know the importance of sacrifice. He didn't know how to survive and so it was on Oswald to ensure his survival.

»What happened in Arkham?«

The question came so out of the blue that it made him stop dead in his tracks but only for a moment before he regained control over his body and quickly continued to get dressed. »I don't know what you mean.«

»I mean that you are behaving oddly since you got out.«

»Well, my dear friend, that's the effect an insane asylum has on you. I doubt I need to tell you of all people this.«

»No, something happened.« Ed replied and got up himself. He didn't care about his nudity and why would he? he was gorgeous. He was tall and lanky, his body all sinew and muscle, chiseled like a Greek god and formed to impress for certain. »Something is different.« Ed continued as he walked closer to catch a hold of him. His hands landed on both sides of Oswald’s face as he cupped his cheeks and forced him into a standstill. Ed Nygma was much gentler than people would give him credit for. His hands were not calloused like Jim Gordon’s or Jerome Valeska’s. His touch was sweet and tantalizing. He was poison seeping through his veins, a snake curling around him and lulling him into a false sense of security.

He had felt secure. He had felt safe. And then the darkness had hit him without warning and pulled the rug out from under him. The other shoe had finally dropped this morning.

»Nothing is different, Ed.« Oswald growled as he took back control and stepped away. It was like ripping off a band-aid. Better be quick about it. »We had fun and that was nice, but I have more important things to do these days and no time for you to drag me down. I’m sure you too know that we are better of unencumbered.«

»I love you.«

Oh, how he had longed to hear those words for the longest time. He had needed to hear them. He had spent so many sleepless nights imagining them even in his cell in Arkham, even when Jerome Valeska had been on top of him. It was too late now. Had he heard them before Arkham … He didn't know if this would have made it worse or better. Maybe he wouldn't be here then. Maybe he would have died. Love was a weakness, he had known this since his mother. Love was sacrifice and Oswald was damn good at sacrificing things at this point. If this would ensure Edward's safety, it was a little price to pay.

»Goodbye, Ed.«

※※※※※※※

In his life, he had done many things he wasn't proud of. He had laid many times in his bed, feeling like crap, feeling like the worst person roaming this world. The darkness of his mind had always lingered in his peripheral. There had been times when he had felt like a whore. It had begun with his first job for Mooney and the feeling had prevailed for most of his life ever since. If she had needed him to spread his legs or suck someone off, he had done it without question and everyone had known it. That was why no one had taken him seriously back in the day. He was Fish’s little pet-whore whom she could pimp out if necessary. He had been an accessory for her, someone who would rub her feet and douse her in compliments. Her charming little pet bird. The only mistake she made was underestimating him and his fury.

After her death - her first death - he had been reborn, a new man, free. No longer had he needed to humiliate himself for power or the simple need for survival. And no matter how often he had been pushed back down by the thug of the week, be it Galavan, Sofia Falcone or even Edward and his posse - he had always come back and stronger than before and never had he again felt the need to do something to humiliate himself to do so.

He could still feel the touch of Edward's long fingers on his spine, tingling on his skin as if a spider was crawling down his back. He could still feel his hot breath ghosting over the shell of his left ear. He could still feel how he had moved inside of him and the jolts of pleasure shooting through his entire body and making it impossible to form a coherent thought. He could still taste him on his lips and his tongue, even now as Jerome pushed further, making him gag as he curled his gloved fingers into Oswald’s mop of dark hair.

»I like your hair.« Jerome groaned as he gave another jerk of his hips that had Oswald feel the hot burning of tears behind his eyes. »Remembers me of that Fish Mooney woman.«

He hummed his response - there really was nothing else he could do. Jerome wasn't the first to make the comparison. It had been Butch, as he had visited him a few days ago, who had said something along the same lines of Oswald looking like Fish with his hair done this way and the fur coat. He didn't know why this was the first thing he had done after coming back to power. It had seemed like the right thing to do. Maybe there was some deeper meaning. Maybe he was missing her guidance. He had never felt so low in his life even though he was on top of his game.

»Someone told me they saw you in the Narrows today.« He managed to get out between deep moans.

He could feel his heart stop at those words and yet he remained calm and focussed on the task at hand as he was bobbing his head up and down Jerome’s length. Kneeling like this on the floor was agony for his leg, meanwhile, Jerome lounged comfortably on the edge of his bed. He needed to burn these sheets when all of this was over. Then again, when would this be? Would it ever be over? He could get through this. He knew he could and yet, he didn't even know if he wanted. What would be waiting for him on the other side of this?

»Visiting your old friend?« The grip in his hair became a little rougher and forced Oswald to glance up at Jerome. Maybe it was this what did it for him as Jerome came seconds later inside of his mouth. The taste was bitter and thick and yet he swallowed because he knew better than to spit it out.

»He asked for my advice.« Oswald replied a little while later after he rose back to his feet and watched Jerome how he tucked his cock back inside his pants. Jerome was certainly not ugly, despite his face, and well-bestowed he was too. Under different circumstances, there could have been more between them. »So I went there and gave it to him.«

»According to my contacts, you have been there for quite some time.«

»I was thorough.«

»I bet you were.« Jerome grinned that shark-like grin of his - the face of his worst nightmare. »But don't forget who you’re working for, little Penguin.«

»Don't worry.« Oswald replied automatically as he walked over to one of the large windows of his bedroom to overlook the vast gardens. »Nygma means nothing to me.«

※※※※※※※

It had been hours that he had spent inside of this blimp, steering it over the river. Hours. Hours in which the news that Jerome was dead had time to sink in. Still, as he was finally released, after he finally scrambled out of the aircraft, the news still had not fully registered in his brain. Even as he saw Jim Gordon with that amused grin on his face as Oswald was back on solid grounds, even as he registered Bullock’s stupid comments about a penguin learning to fly, at last, he didn't understand.

Jerome was dead.

He felt like a child that had gotten the news that the boogeyman was finally gone for good from its closet. It didn't make sense. How could he be dead? And he knew, even as he entered his house in the wee hours of the morning, that Jerome would forever be a ghost haunting these halls. He thought that he would feel joy when he would hear about his death or his recapture. Instead, he felt strangely empty and lost. He hadn't been prepared for his escape. He hadn't been prepared for his return to the city. He hadn't been prepared for Jerome to come to him with his league of horribles. Surviving meant making friends and forging alliances. That was what he had done. Now the alliance was dead and he was still alive.

He had survived. He was still here. He was free.

And there was Ed Nygma sitting in his living room as he walked in. In the dim light of the crackling fire, he looked like a ghost. Perhaps he was. Ed had never been that good of a survivor. He was too naive at times, too trusty, too easy to manipulate - especially by pretty women. He had so much to learn still. There were no words to exchange as Oswald walked over to the couch and sat down heavily beside him. There were no words exchanged, no apologies needed, no explanations made as Edward pulled him in for a kiss at last. There was no need for any of this. Ed’s lips were like oxygen. Without them, he would suffocate and drown. The thought scared him.

»What happened?« Edward mumbled against his mouth as they parted for just a second. »What happened with Jerome?«

There was nothing he could say. He didn't know how to explain all of this. So, in the end, he didn't say anything as he leaned his head against Ed’s shoulder. He had survived and that was all that mattered.

 


End file.
